Creating a new play isn't easy, especially when you eschew more mainstream conventions of story and character. Like, say, if you were to take an utterly mundane daily activity and explode it into an extraordinary moment of self discovery.

Such is the challenge of the Independent Aunties/ Theatre Centre co-pro Breakfast. Billed as a 'production in progress', it's not always a complete success as a piece of theatre. But it is an interesting and brave show, well worth checking out for those who like to walk a bit off the beaten theatrical path.

Plays about 'ideas' are tempermental beasts. When a playwright hitches his wagon to some kind of a political or social concept, it often ends up as a very boring show. A play that really wants to tell you something about, say, poverty ends up forgetting about all those other things that audiences actually connect with- story, characters and relationships. A good piece of social or political drama starts with the basics and lets the conceptual implications flow upwards.

So, it was with some trepidation that I went to see Necessary Angel's production of The Eco Show, the latest offering from Toronto's theatrical wunderkind, Daniel Brooks. Based on the title alone, I thought I was in for an environmental screed, a kind of Al Gore meets Hamlet kind of affair. Turns out, Brooks has not only created a remarkably compelling family drama, but also committed one of the most spectacular theatrical fake-outs I have ever seen. But more on that later.

Despite all the hooplah about CanStage's recent financial woes, the company deserves praise for its 2007-08 season at the Berkeley Street Theatre. CanStage's three Berkeley shows- The Pillowman, Palace of the End, and The December Man- are all unflinchingly honest looks at humanity's darker places. Bold choices, particularly when Toronto's theatre industry struggles with declining attendance, stagnant funding at the grim prospect of a North American recession.

As the old saying goes, fortune does indeed favour the bold. The Berkeley season has been at least an artistic success, bringing a welcome level of relevance and emotional depth to Toronto audiences. It is perhaps fitting then that the final show of the season, The December Man, should embody this trend so fully. While The Pillowman reveled in an almost cartoonish brutality, and Palace of the End spoke with the urgency of today's headlines, The December Man takes a softer, simpler look at the lingering destruction of a horrible crime. It is a very moving show, a detailed and honest look at a family consumed by guilt and loss.

Often when I go review a play, somebody spots my notebook and figures out that I'm a critic. Sometimes they'll make a comment about it. Last night at Tarragon Theatre's premiere of Alias Godot, the woman sitting next to me said this:

"I hope when I read your review I'll know what this play is about."

I smiled, I laughed, I made some low-cal statement about confusion following Beckett around like a puppy. But then I thought to myself, "geez, I hope when I actually write this review, I know what this play is about."

Here's the good news: after sleeping on it, I think I've got a handle on playwright Brendan Gall's intriguing and entertaining play. The bad news is that I'm not entirely sure what it's trying to accomplish.

Way back in the primordial soup of my youth, I was the host of a student television show. The experience taught me one important lesson: creating an hour of quality comedy is the hardest thing on earth. Sure, you can have one or two funny bits. But a consistently funny show? That's like climbing a mountain backwards while dragging a fridge full of rocks.

Standing in stark contrast to this principle is Toronto's own Death Ray Cabaret. Playing every Saturday in April at the Bad Dog Theatre, DRC does something amazing: they perform 60 minutes of solid comedy, and make it look pretty easy.

Let me paint this picture for you: a man who looks suspiciously like 'Doc' from Back to the Future is rolling on the floor, yelling something in French. Another man is washing an invisible horse. A woman, dressed like a schoolgirl, is enjoying what the man is doing to the invisible horse. Really enjoying it. Taken together, it's more than a little nuts.

Just another day at the office for Theatre Smith-Gilmour. The innovative theatre company is back with The Mansfield Project, a stage adaptation of four short stories by Katherine Mansfield. The show is chockablock with Smith-Gilmour's trademark theatrical kinetics, a physical performance style that emphasizes emotion and image over story. Watching it is like taking a trip to a strange new world. And when you get back, you're not exactly sure what you've just seen.